I looked in to find a room filled with lockers on the wall, reminding me of my old high school. People had stuck posters and photos onto the fronts of their lockers. It smelled nice, like an expensive department store. There were small machines for coffee and tea, a microwave, a minifridge, a full-length mirror propped against the wall, and at the end, another door that was propped open. I could feel a slight breeze from outside.

“That door goes onto the roof of the adjacent building,” she said. “No smoking inside, so the smokers go out when they need to. You don’t smoke, do you?”

I shook my head.

A number of folding chairs were set up in the free space of the room.

Mateo stuck his head in through the door. “Should I start grabbing some of the chairs for the meeting?”

—

I looked around at the staff sitting in a circle in the small ballroom. Muted spotlights hanging from the ceiling gave the room an intimate glow. Nina and Mateo were already there, still bickering about something from their rehearsal. The blond Simone was next to Mateo, then came the petite brunette, Estella. A couple I didn’t know sat by Estella. Adrienne had saved a seat for me in between her and Dominic, who had just arrived.

Dominic stood up. “I think most of you have met Charlie, our new receptionist.”

Adrienne said, “Except for Viktor and Katerina, who are both from Russia.” She indicated the other couple. The tall man gave me a nod and the woman, who had a riot of chestnut curls, smiled at me in a friendly way. Everyone was watching me. I sat on my hands without thinking, trying to hide them.

Dominic said, “We hope she will be staying with us for a long time. Be nice to her or she will leave and we will make you answer the phones again.” He went over some sales numbers from our studio and others in the Avery chain. Apparently this studio was doing very well, except they were not keeping enough students from the introductory group lessons.

“What is going wrong?” Dominic asked. “Estella, since you most often teach the intro groups, can you tell me? We need to make sure they have a good time and want to return for private lessons.”

The flush on Estella’s cheeks made her look even prettier. She spoke with a faint French accent. “I do not know. I teach them. I do not tell them they are the clumsy elephants they are. I keep my mouth shut. I cannot help it if people do not want to continue.”

Adrienne broke in. “But you see, that attitude has to change. You’re calling them derogatory names.”

“Not to their face.”

“But in your mind, and they feel that. These are complete beginners. I need you to treat them with warmth and kindness.”

Estella pouted. “Let someone else teach them, then.”

Dominic said, “There is no one else. Nina is booked all of the time, Simone and Katerina usually have their competition students, the men are already overloaded with students in the evening hours. Please, Estella, try to be a bit nicer to the students.” His look was gentle.

Estella’s lips curved in a reluctant smile. “Yes, I will try.”

Then Adrienne said, “Remember that there is a party this week for the students on Thursday evening and the theme is Hawaiian, so please don’t come dressed like a belly dancer or an Egyptian. One last point. While we are very happy about the affection between our students and our staff, there is a line between dancing and hanky-panky. Please remember that. Thanks, everyone. Get dressed now, as our first students will be coming in soon. Charlie, if you could please wait for us for a few minutes in the ballroom while Dominic and I finish updating the accounts from last week. Then we’ll get you started.”

—

Estella and Simone had taken up their former places at the table in the main ballroom since they were already dressed for the day. I took a seat at the table next to theirs but none of us said anything to each other.

A man with blond wavy hair was waiting by the mirror. I imagined he was Julian Edwards. He had a prominent nose, and a pronounced cupid’s bow above a full underlip. There was something in his walk—his weight low and centered—that reminded me of Godmother, though he was much younger. The Russian couple, Katerina and Viktor, entered the ballroom and greeted him. They took dance position and began to move across the floor.

Julian watched for a few minutes, then stopped the couple in midstep, very close to where we were sitting. Although they’d been gliding across the room a moment ago, they froze the moment he touched them, completely balanced. Katerina’s leg was extended behind her red Lycra dress with her toe pointed, her head arched back. Viktor, extremely thin, all long arms and legs, made me think of a giant stick insect.

“Viktor, if I may.” Julian gently extracted Viktor from Katerina and took his place. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and arched her back slightly more, turned her head a fraction to the left. “You have a lovely position, Katerina, but we need a bit more stretch here to balance the pivot turns.” There was something British in his voice.

He stepped away and allowed Viktor to take position again. At his nod, they resumed as if nothing had interrupted them and flew across the ballroom. They looked like a fairy tale come true as they flowed across the floor, their long strides eating up the ballroom, Katerina’s expression a blend of joy and passion.

Now that they were out of hearing distance, Simone and Estella spoke to each other in mock whispers. I watched them in the mirrored wall facing us.

“Julian has such . . . line,” Simone sighed.

Estella giggled. “I’d do a dip with him anytime.” They both laughed. “You have to admit,” she continued, “Viktor and Katerina look good together.”

“Of course, they’ve been dancing together since they were five or something in Russia. He’s a powerful dancer but Katerina . . .”

“She is big, isn’t she?” said Estella.

“She would never have been allowed to keep all that weight at Juilliard,” Simone said. I studied Katerina. She was tall, broad-shouldered and voluptuous. She was more athletically built than the model-thin Simone, but to my eyes she was stunning.

“You’re so bad,” Estella said with a laugh.

I barely knew I had spoken aloud: “I think she’s lovely.”

Both women glared at me. “Were we talking to you?” Simone said.

I’d just arrived at the studio and they already disliked me.

—

A few weeks passed, and Uncle and Aunt were taking us out to dinner because it was Uncle’s birthday. The glamour of the dance studio had already rubbed off on me a bit. I chose a dress with an open neckline that evening and put on lipstick. The dress was quite modest but revealed my neck and collarbones. I understood the moment Pa paused that I’d done wrong.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“You look like a dancing girl,” he said.

“Ma was one,” Lisa said.

“Your mother was a dancer,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

“She wore beautiful clothes too.” I glanced at the photo of Ma onstage.

He sighed. “Your mother was a very lovely woman.” His face softened. “And she was already married to me. Come on, put on something befitting a modest girl. And maybe you should wash your face too.”

I felt the familiar knot of anger rise in my throat and swallowed it down again. Did he have any idea what other young women my age were wearing? What they were doing? I was too old to be living at home with Pa. He was so protective, he wanted to keep me away from boys until I turned twenty-five, at which point he would expect me to somehow be married. There was no in-between phase.

But I didn’t think I could leave my family. Lisa needed me, and I couldn’t leave Pa with all the bills to pay alone. My sister had been only three when our mother died of a massive stroke. At fourteen, I was the one who’d comforted Lisa on the nights when there was no one to hold either one of us anymore. Pa had shrunken into himself. He could barely care for himself, let alone two young girls. He would just scratch the back of his head, rub his eyes like he had something in them, then retreat to his own room again.